Weep Not For Memories
by NerdAngel
Summary: An AU one shot I wrote for my dear friend LilyBolt.


**A/N: This story is dedicated to the always phenomenal LilyBolt!**

 **This is more or less an AU with no spoilers**

 **I don't own SPN.**

Weep Not For Memories 

I sit in the driver's seat with my hands firmly grasping the steering wheel, eyes focused on nothing in particular ahead of me and my heart hammering in my chest like it's desperate to escape from me. I don't blame it. I want to escape too. I sit like that for, I don't even know how long, not moving a muscle and the only sound that comes from the car is my quick uneasy breaths. To anyone who peers into the boat of a car and sees a giant of a man sitting there, I would look like a statue. Internally, mentally, I'm like a chicken with it's head cut off. It's like I don't know what to do and I'm scrambling for an answer, but the answer is simple. " _All you have to do is release the steering wheel, open the door, step out of the car, and walk inside. It's not complicated Sam_." But even though I tell myself it's simple, it isn't. Sure the motion is simple enough, but it doesn't change the fact that I don't want to go. I don't want to move from where I am unless I'm looking at the place in my rearview mirror. But I don't want that either. I just want things to be the same. They way they always have been and the way I had believe they always would be. I'm not in _my_ seat. Not the seat that I had claimed as mine once Dad stopped being the primary driver of the Imapla and a very eager Dean had taken his place.

Finally I feel my right hand detach itself from the steering wheel and slowly move its way towards the keys sitting in the ignition. I remove them without so much as a side glance at what I'm doing. You could blindfold me and stick me in this car and I could maneuver my way around it easy. After all, this car has been my home numerous times and good portion of where I have spent a good number of hours on a daily basis growing up. I use to joke the car was going to out live the owner. I no longer find it to be a joke.

Both hands come off the steering wheel and I run them through my hair. A nervous habit I've had since I first started growing it out. The funny thing is I don't know I'm doing it until once I've done it. I don't even mean to. I go to open the car door but stop to check my jacket pocket. It's still there. With one last deep breath in and out, I open the door and step outside.

The place is decent. It's homey enough though something still makes me uneasy about it. It might even be because it's homey. It doesn't seem right coming here. It doesn't smell right. I'm not sure I can explain exactly what it smells like, but it isn't home or rather the Bunker. Nor does it smell like any of the no tell motels I've stayed in. And trust me, that's a good thing. But at the same time, I would take that smell over this one. Even with the place being clean and everyone there that I have met so far in my visits being very friendly, I hate it. I mean, I'm glad, but it bothers me. Everything just feels too...perfect. Like the kind that would normally give Dean the "bad touch" vibes.

This trip was different than the other ones though. Normally I hav to go inside and walk through the bland hallways pass all the rooms with all the hopeful smiles that I'm there to see them until I get to the room I really came to visit. It breaks my heart to see all those looks, it's like walking around a dog shelter at all the hopeful eyes and wagging tails and you know you can't do anything to help them.

"That your car?"

I turn to see a man barely in his forties who's sitting outside on a chair in the side lawn area. Not far from him is one of the women I've seen most of my visits. She lowers her cooking magazine just enough to peer over at me. I smile and give her a small wave. "Hey Joyce," I greet her. She smiles and returns to her reading. " Uh yeah, " I clear my throat and address the man.

"She's a real beauty," he admires. I nod at him. "You a car guy?" He asks me. I swallow but give the best attempt of a grin.

"Nah, not really. It...She's been in the family since before I was born." A lump grows in my throat as I struggle to make small talk. "How about you? You into cars?"

The man nods. "Yep." Another nod from me and I feel like the lump I felt in my throat earlier has grown. I don't know what to say but I know the silence is worse to me than me than anything. The man's attention waivers back to the car and I watch him. His eyes seem to light up as he looks at it and a small smile reaches his lips. I feel my own lips start to turn upwards but I quickly fight and win to lower them. I have to find something to say, anything. But I'm at a loss for words. Me. The guy who can bullshit anyone, or just about anyone. The guy who can get most people to talk one way or another even if it's not what I want to hear, was speechless. I point at the chair sitting next to the one he's sitting on. "Mind if I sit?" I ask. He shakes his head. I step over the shrubbery and have a seat. Joyce eyes me as I do so reminding me that the magazine is just to make her look busy but I know she's watching us like a hawk. I don't like it, but I don't blame her. She's just doing her job. I clasp my hands together and twiddle my thumbs looking from them over to the man who's still eyeing the Impala. "It's a nice day out today." The words barely leave my mouth before I wish I could shove them back in. Really I'm talking weather with this guy now? Weather?! When have I ever said something so lame before? Something that everyone says when they don't know what to say to one another.

"Right?" Is all he says but he says it with a polite smile. It's silent once more between us for a bit. "You a sports man?" He asks me.

"Yeah I like sports. Don't really get to watch them because of my job though. I use to play soccer when I was a kid. We use to go to a Jayhawks game when we'd get the chance. Every now and again we would get some down time and watch a Football game. We always tried to at least see the Super Bowl."

"We? " The man asks with a frown. I hadn't realized I had been smiling until that question. I look at my hands which are still together than turn to the man. "Me and my big brother. He would sneak us into games and concerts and stuff. We never really got the chance to do that kind of thing often because of work, but when we did get the chance he'd go all out. I'm talking drinks, tons of food, the whole nine. He always treated those times special too. I mean my brother hit on any decent looking chick within viewing range, but when we went to games, it was about us. We just got to enjoy the moment together. We even went to a few wrestling matches. My brother was a sucker for them."

"Your brother sounds like a cool guy, " the man replies.

"Yeah," I agree. "Yeah he is. He's the best brother anyone could ask for. I mean he's a bit...he's really overprotective and it drives me insane...or, he was and it did." I trail off. Dean's overprotective attribute is something I never thought I'd miss. I mean I only spent all my life trying to prove he didn't need to hover over me all the damn time and that I could protect myself. He'd go through these moments where he'd realize I'm not a kid anymore, but it only lasted a little bit before he was back to Mother Henning me. God it use to drive me insane. And now...what I wouldn't give just to hear him nag me to be careful. To look at me with that same concerned look in his eyes and tell me he just wants me to be ok. I never realized how much that look, that same one that I use to roll my own eyes at and get irratated when I saw it, I never realized how much that would mean to me.

"You alright there?" The guy asks me. The look he gives is more like one you might receive from a stranger passing you by who thought maybe you weren't all there. But what did I expect? The man sitting next to me is a stranger. A stranger with an all too familiar face.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Sorry." The man nods and looks over at a passerby. My eyes follow. It was a woman, probably in her late twenties , walking a shizu. She doesn't pay any attention to either of us and the man I am sitting with only gives her a quick look before turning his attention to nothing in particular.

"The car belonged to my brother." I'm not sure why I say that. We weren't talking about the car at the time.

"He has good taste."

"He was a car guy."

"Was? What he lost interest?"

"He uh...He became sick and...He couldn't really take care of it anymore. I mean he could but he wasn't allowed the car in his condition."

"Sorry to hear it. Losing a gem like that because you're too sick, that's gotta suck." It feels like someone has grabbed hold of my heart and is tugging it down towards my stomach.

"I miss him." I admit. It's the first time I tell the man this. I don't even mean to, it just slips out. "I miss those games and concerts. I miss just sitting on the Impala and looking at the stars together. I miss the long drives, the bad singing, the bad food, the shady motel rooms. Hell, I miss the fights. I miss him calling me Sammy."

"You sure you're still talking about your brother?" He questions me with a quirked eyebrow. It's like all of the sudden all the patience I'd been holding onto all those times I had visited, all those tears I had kept locked away until I left and was alone in the car or a motel. All that hope I had been keeping bottled up inside me, the desperation, all of it, it was coming out all at once. It was like an out of control car and I was stuck behind the wheel. I quickly pull out the same item I had felt to make sure had been in my pocket before I stepped out of the car. It's still wrapped in newspaper just like it had been when I left.

"Here," I sniff fighting hard to not tear up. He looks down at the same wrapped object with another frown.

"What is it?"

"It's a gift," I say trying to keep my voice from shaking.

"For what?" He sounds almost suspicious.

"Just...just open it." He continues to stare at me unsure but finally he begins to unwrap the gift starting with tearing off the top working his way down. With the paper removed, a small brass item sits in his hand on a black string. The face on the brass is a bit worn off and the charm itself is a bit beaten, but it's still in tact and that's all that matters to me. His frown deepens so that his forehead wrinks as he looks it over. As if remembering someone is sitting there watching him, he looks up at me.

"Look guy, I appreciate the gesture and all, but I'm not a jewelry man." He moves his hand to return the amulet to mine.

"Don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"I gave this to you years ago when Dad didn't show up for Christmas and you gave me your best attempt of at least a decent Christmas."

"What are you talking about?"

"You wore it from that day on until we hit a rough patch after Lucifer was released and it was my fault and I've never felt so sorry for betraying your trust."

The man starts to move to get up, now looking terrifed. I'm up first and I grab both his shoulders trying to ground him the way he's done for me so many times before and visa versa.

"Please Dean, please remember. Remember all those hours of riding around going from one place to the next? You behind the wheel, me in the passenger seat next to you. Remember when it was just you and me against the world?"

"Look guy I don't know who -"

"Sam! It's Sam, Dean. You're my big brother! "

"Mr. Winchester!" I can hear Joyce calling out to me but I ignore her.

"Dean please!" I beg.

"Mr. Winchester! "

"Look uh um..."

"Sam!"

"Whatever, I need you to go. Now. I'm asking you nicely, I won't do it again." I can't stop the tears from streaming down my face and although I know I need to remove my hands from him, I refuse to let go of his shoulders.

"Please."

I feel a hand on my shoulder and I know it's not Joyce's hand but her voice is the one I hear. "Mr. Winchester, please leave."

I don't know who's hand is on me but I know what it means and as tempted as I am to remove it forcefully I decide against it. With on last look at the familiar stranger, I remove my hands from both of his shoulders and head back to the car. The moment I sit down I realize I'm holding the amulet in my hand. It was suppose to work. It was my last hope. The thing I thought would bring my brother around and remind him of me. For months I have been visiting him trying to spark a memory through talk, food he likes, the Impala, telling him my name, anything. Nothing works. Joyce and the guy who had "escorted" me to the car were watching me but the eyes I'm focused on are the ones that peer back at me with a look I hate the most from him.

Years ago that look would have been the look he had given me when he found out I had demon blood in me, or the look of betrayal and disappointment when I had foolishly chosen to trust a demon over him. I never would have guessed a look could trump those looks. But the look like he was simply staring at a stranger, an unfamiliar gaze, that one would be the one that would hurt me most. It was the last look I saw before he was no longer in my rearview mirror.

 **A/N: I know this story isn't exactly happy but...HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I know ever since I told you I wanted to write a story where Dean has no memory of Sam (before Regarding Dean even came out) you were interested. I'm really sorry because I had hoped to have this story be so much better. I may rewrite it one day, but I hope you thought it was at least decent. Knowing you I'm sure you'll say it was lol. I really hope I get to see you soon to celebrate the birth of an amazingly phenomenal person like the true nerds we are. So thank you so much for reading and as always I hope you have a grrrrranulated day!** )


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